


bouquet of balloons

by miraculous (milkisande)



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Adrien and Marinette Meet For The First Time, Adrien is a Single Dad, Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, Brief Mentions of DJWifi, F/M, Fluff, Kwamis Are Human (And One Cat), Parenting As An Excuse For Flirting, Romance, Shallow Misunderstandings, This is Actually an Alyanette Friendship Fic, Unbeta'd Chaos
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-17
Updated: 2020-05-28
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:35:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23699374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/milkisande/pseuds/miraculous
Summary: Friendship entails many things. Including lending your newborn daughter to your best friend for flirting-with-the-hot-single-dad purposes, apparently.“Wait.”Alya states, effectively stopping Marinette from her rambling. “You thought,” she starts slowly, as if processing the statement in her mind per word. “That when he was talking about his baby, he was talking about… what—? A cat?”“Well, notspecificallya cat,” Marinette responds, quick to defend herself. “I just thought that he was talking about his pet, like a snake or ladybug or something— though hedoesseem like a cat person, I don’t know, maybe…?”It takes Alya another minute, but when it finally does register, she bursts into a fit of loud, unstoppable, laughter.
Relationships: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, Alya Césaire & Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug
Comments: 28
Kudos: 126





	1. mid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “So, if you’re going on a date, that means dream daddy is single?”
> 
>  **my tellonym:** milkisande

**.**

**mid**

_tomorrow, too, my heart;  
will probably be jumbled and confused._

**.**

**.**

**.**

" **WHAT do you mean,** **'** _ **can you borrow Trixx this Saturday'**_ **?"**

Alya's face is one of incredulity, and Marinette can't really blame her. After all, despite having asked for some rather bizarre things in the past (most of which came with a half-baked excuse of _'oh, it's-just-a-gift-for-work-I-mean-a-friend-I-mean-a-work-friend!')_ , the former was sure that at the very least, her best friend knew that there were some things that were simply off limits.

Some things specifically being her just-turned-a-year-old daughter, Trixie (or Trixx, as she so preferred).

Marinette laughs weakly, scratching her head in what one could probably call _typical_ Marinette fashion, with the girl not seeming to have grown out of her awkward phase even after more than a decade of friendship. "Well…"

Before she can begin with yet another excuse, Alya cuts her off. "And before you give me some other _clearly_ fake explanation as to why you need something from me, remember that this is my kid and I'm not about to lend her to you that easily, even if you _are_ my best friend."

Hands crossed on her lap, Alya taps her fingers, clearly in waiting. The two had decided to meet at a hole-in-the-wall café near the Sorbonne, a personal favorite of Marinette's due to its obscurity— somewhere she could work in peace, away from all the noisiness and chaos of the streets of Paris and those who knew her.

The meeting itself was rather spontaneous, an offer for lunch which Alya had just realized was a disguise for another one of her best friend's favors. She looks down at the cheesecake slice on the table, then audibly _hmph_ s, now knowing that the sweet treat was part-and-parcel with the bribe.

"Come on, Mari! I've known you for years, meaning that I'm all too familiarwith your embarrassments. Do you really think that _anything_ you do is going to surprise me now?"

Marinette sighs, absentmindedly tucking a stray strand of hair back into place. A few years ago, she had made the decision to chop it all off, rationalizing that a pixie cut was much more practical and fitting, given that her token pigtails gave off a childlike aura that she had long since grown out of.

After all, she's no longer the awkward, embarrassing, and clumsy Marinette who would stumble on her words as often as she stumbled over her own two feet. She's now the confident, mature, and independent Marinette that took the world by storm with her designs and talent.

Or, at the very least, she liked to think so.

Marinette glances back at Alya, who was looking less than entertained with the amount of time she was taking. She should really just be honest and tell her— in any case, Alya was right: she's had her fair share of embarrassing moments, and this would be, at the very least, just another one to add on her list; with something like this barely cracking the top three _(never shall item #1: the Macaron Tragedy of '23 be repeated)_.

Taking a deep breath, Marinette manages to speak. "Do you remember when we went to the park last month?"

Alya perks a curious eyebrow. "Yeah, what about it?"

"And do you remember the man we saw near the fountain playing around with that kid?"

"Ah, that creepy pigeon man? I knew you had a thing for—"

"NO, NOT HIM!"Marinette cuts her off suddenly (and rather loudly), quieting down when she realized that other customers were looking at their table. "The _other_ one."

Alya laughs, then smirks, leaning over the table. "Oh, so you mean the hot blonde with the _serious_ daddy—"

Turning red, Marinette covers the former's mouth, looking over her shoulders frantically before letting her friend go. "Yes, _him!_ But be quiet!"

"Why? He doesn't even go here!" Alya retorts, before noticing her friend's sheepish grin. _"_ Unless… _Marinette…_ have you been hiding something from me?"

Looking down in what could be a cross between (victorious) embarrassment and shame, Marinette manages another awkward laugh before quickly mumbling something that Alya couldn't quite hear.

"What was that?"

"Mhmmhmhmmhmm."

" _What was that?"_

"MHMMMHMHMMHMM."

" _ **Marinette Dupain-Cheng if you speak in tongues one more time I will send the macaron photo to all your co-workers and—".**_

"NO!" Marinette squeaks, grabbing Alya's hands to stop her from taking her phone, then sighed. "Okay, okay, so maybe he _has_ been here before…"

"What."

"And maybe we _did_ end up getting coffee together…"

" _What._ "

"And maybe we _are_ going on a date this weekend…"

" _ **What."**_

"And _maybe_ I need to borrow Trixx for it to happen…"

" **Wait—. WHAT."**

The excitement in Alya's voice for the conversation suddenly drops in tone, replaced with a flat response laced with confusion and suspicion. The unspoken question lay in the air: _how_ _ **the hell**_ _did you manage to mess up this one?_

Marinette's shoulders drop, the sheepish expression on her face returning full force. "Look, it's not my fault, okay!" She's quick to retort. "Adrien and I— Adrien's his name, by the way — somehow we ended up talking about his baby, and I thought he was talking about his pet, you know, like how I call Tikki my baby, but apparently, he was talking about his _actual_ baby— like a _living, breathing, child_ , you know, and I panicked and just continued the conversation and—"

" _Wait."_ Alya states, effectively stopping Marinette from her rambling. "You thought," she starts slowly, as if processing the statement in her mind per word. "That when he was talking about his kid, he was talking about… what—? A cat?"

"Well, not _specifically_ a cat," Marinette responds, quick to defend herself. "I just thought that he was talking about his pet, like a snake or ladybug or something— though he _does_ seem like a cat person, I don't know, maybe…?"

It takes Alya another minute, but when it finally does register, she bursts into a fit of loud, unstoppable, laughter.

The people in the café are staring now, some (if not all) judgmental or annoyed, but the person guilty for it all can't seem to care less. Tears seem to be forming in Alya's eyes from pure joy, consequently resulting in the intensified redness on the face of her companion.

" _Alya!_ " Marinette only manages to squeak out, burying her face in her hand in honest embarrassment.

Clutching her stomach with one hand, and wiping her tears with the other, Alya draws in deep breaths of air, finally quieting down, but no less entertained than she was a minute ago.

"Almost thirteen years and you haven't changed," Alya manages to say through fits of soft giggles. "Still the awkward girl I went to high school with all those years ago."

Marinette pouts but doesn't respond, knowing that she was right, after all.

"So I'm assuming that's why you want to borrow Trixx, then?" Alya asks, starting to calm down. "So she can be the baby that you'll bring to your _play_ date?"

Despite huffing at her choice of words, Marinette droops in quiet and embarrassed submission. "… Yeah."

Alya grins, finally taking a bite of the cheesecake previously laying untouched. "Look, Mari, I'd love to help you but what are you planning to do? Pass her off as your kid? I mean, Trixx looks nothing like you; and even if you _do_ manage to convince him, how long do you plan to keep it up? Are you planning to keep lying to him like that?"

Noticing Marinette's defeated look, Alya smiles softly and apologetically. "Come on, don't be sad! Just tell him the truth— it's not like you meant to lie!"

"Yeah," Marinette mutters in response, "but then he's going to realize that all I am is a klutz and not the mature and perfect girl that he probably wants to be with!" She groans, upset at how logical her friend was being about everything.

In response, Alya laughs, before quieting down at her friend's pointed look. " _Please_ , Mari. Anyone who's ever met you knows that you're not that type of girl." Sensing Marinette's glare, Alya's quick to amend herself. " _I mean_ , your first meeting wasn't that great adult-wise either. You are an awkward mess of a human, but that's part of your charm! It's cute!"

Marinette manages to laugh with that, then replies, with a hint of cynicism, "really?"

"Definitely, girl! And if Adrien can't see that, then _hot daddy vibes_ are the only things that he's got going for him."

Marinette's laugh is full-blown now, with one of the customers finally having had enough and shushing them.

Covering her mouth, Marinette giggles along with Alya, as the latter puts her finger to her lips in a _'quiet'_ gesture.

"So, if you're going on a date, that means dream daddy is single?"

"Yeah, he didn't really give me the details, but the mom's out of the picture. And can we _**please**_ not call him that?"

"What? Dream daddy?"

"Yes!"

"I think it's perfect though." Then softer. " _Sorry Nino._ "

They burst into a loud fit of laughter again, and despite the shushes from disgruntled customers, remain entertained and amused by their conversation.

.

.

That weekend, Marinette meets Adrien at the park.

He waves when he sees her, but what attracts more attention is the small toddler lying next to him, wearing a black hoodie that seemed to cover his entire tiny body.

Marinette waves back, awkwardly, as a cat with a uniquely red coat appears from behind her. Adrien pauses as she walks over to him, an embarrassed blush evident.

The man suddenly kneels down, petting the cat with an amused look on his face. He looks up, then smiles. "I'm assuming this is Tikki, then?"

Scratching her head in slight mortification, "Oh, _yeah_. So maybe there was a little miscommunication on my end?"

Adrien laughs, about to respond, when a curious and delighted boy peeks out from behind his back. " _ **Woah**_ , is that really a cat? Its fur is so red!" The boy, who Marinette now notices has faux cat ears sewed onto his jacket, tugs on his dad's jeans. "Can I play with it?!"

"It's a _her_ , and you have to ask Marinette if it's okay," Adrien replies calmly, the ghost of a smile still on his lips. His arm wraps around his son's waist, then winks at the girl in question. "About that playdate, then? I'm a little surprised, but I guess it's not a total _cat_ astrophe." He smiles, and she feels like falling.

"Seems like the kids will still get along pretty well, right?"

At this point, Marinette's red to the point of no return, but she manages to nod. Enthusiastically, the boy grabs Tikki's leash, pulling her along with him, leaving the two alone. Adrien stands so they're face-to-face, despite him being a good few inches taller. He smiles.

"So, that's your baby, hm?"

"Haha, _oh well…_ cat's out of the bag?"

**.**

**.**

**.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm still thinking about adding more chapters (specifically on the First Meeting, the Coffee Date, and of course, the Playdate), but it really still depends on how i feel after posting this au
> 
>  **inspired by this prompt:** "The hot single parent I'm into proposed a playdate for our kids and I happily agreed but I was actually talking about my pet please send help" AU.
> 
> _thank you for reading! ( ´ ∀ `)ノ～ ♡_


	2. pre, scene i

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Please, who are you kidding? You cannot spell Marinette Dupain-Cheng without: K-L-U—”  
> “Then do tell me, please, where the letter ‘K’ IS IN MY—”
> 
>  **my tellonym:** milkisande

**.**

**pre, scene i**

_and those eyes, they drew me in;  
it was too late for me._

**.**

**.**

**.**

**THE park was a spur-of-the-moment decision.**

After having spent the majority of the week busily working away at all the details of her collection's presentation for Paris Fashion Week: completing errands, cementing work connections, and finalizing papers before their deadlines, it was no surprise to anyone that the twenty-nine year old was already feeling rather burned out.

Almost passing out on her chair, Marinette slammed her head on her desk in a desperate (and, in actuality, futile) attempt to get at least a few minutes of rest. The unfinished paperwork on her desk stacked menacingly, almost threatening to fall over, and her phone couldn't seem to stop ringing in a constant _bzzt bzzt bzzt_ that the exhausted girl drearily attempted to convince herself was a lullaby.

Sure, in the public's eye, Marinette Dupain-Cheng was living the dream: a superstar CEO who began her fashion brand in her teenage years, only to rise in global popularity and acclaim despite her young age (though she was, arguably, not that young anymore). The Ladybug brand was, and remained to be, at the top of the Paris fashion industry, causing everyone to be envious of its talented leader.

And sure, she would have been the same in the past, pining over that kind of lifestyle, but after experiencing it for herself, began to realize that she was severely misinformed. If only she had been briefed that the reality of her fashion dream was this demanding and intense, with little to no time for a personal life or even time for herself, Marinette would've re-examined starting her career that early on.

But now it was far too late; she was turning thirty and still single, with a generally embarrassing lack of experience in the field of long-term dating ( _sure,_ she'd gone on dates before: but none of them quite worked out or lasted, what with her busy schedule and the unfortunate truth that none of them really spiked her interest in the first place).

Frankly, Marinette had long since accepted that her relationship status definitely wouldn't change any time soon: despite the concerned looks and almost _pitying_ stares from her parents and co-workers. So to speak, Marinette Dupain-Cheng was married to her job— as countless papers had written about her.

Sighing, and settling into a comfortable position (the best she could do was lay her head on some leftover fabric placed haphazardly on her desk to make a sorry attempt at a pillow— _oh, if only the interviewers could see her now_ ), she readied to nap, until the familiar sound of someone calling her name accompanied the sudden opening of her office doors.

" **Marinette!"**

Groggily looking up and wiping her eyes, the girl in question, exhausted, managed to muster a response. "Alya? What are you doing here?"

The light from outside her office streamed in, causing Marinette to blink rapidly in order to adjust. She'd been holed in this room for God-knows-how-long, attempting to finish everything on time, the only company being her mountain of work and the box of Chinese takeout that was, in all honesty, starting to look less like food and more like something one would see in their nightmares.

"Girl, how long have you been _in_ here?" Alya asked instead, carefully stepping over the items thrown all over the floor. "And why is it so messy?" Curiously, she picked up one box, only to drop it immediately realizing the trail of ants that seemed to emerge from inside. _"Eek!"_

Propping her head up with one hand, the other stressfully running through her hair, _"yeah, yeah,_ I know _"_ , she muttered, "it's a mess. I'll clean it up in a bit, just let me answer my calls for a sec—"

"Oh, no way," Alya responded, finally reaching her friend's desk and seeing the girl in all her exhausted glory: hair tied in an _actual_ messy bun, glasses markedly leaving an imprint on her face from sleeping on it, eyebags upon eyebags, and an outfit that would make anyone doubt whether or not she really was working in the fashion industry.

Alya liked to call these moments _**Marinette's Downward Spirals**_ _(patent pending):_ having been with her throughout high school and all of university, she was no stranger to her best friend's work-related breakdowns.

"Alright, Miss CEO, what you need to do is go outside, and experience the actual sun," Alya lectured. "You need to remember that there _is_ a world outside of the four walls of this room." She paused, then looked around. "Or whatever _hellscape_ you turned your office into."

Against her will, Marinette was disrupted from her (not quite) rest, somewhat rudely being pulled out of her chair and the (questionable) comfort of her desk. " _Alyaaa_ ," she whined, "I can't go out. I have too much to do."

"I know," Alya responded, pointedly, dragging her unwilling victim out. "But you're never going to get anything done staying like this. I'll call your secretary to have her help out with the work and," she wrinkled her nose, "do something about this room. I know you have a habit of doing everything yourself, but you don't have to do that anymore. This isn't high school, and you have an entire group of employees who have to and are _willing_ to help you out. You're stretching yourself out too thin, Mari."

Marinette only sighed, knowing she was right. She knew that most of the work she didn't have to do herself, but she just wasn't used to relegating tasks to anyone else: something she still had difficulty with even after years on the job. It was times like this that Marinette was grateful for Alya, who was always the one to pull her out of those moments.

"Yeah," she finally replied, "Thanks, Alya." She smiled, before following her friend downstairs and outside, onto the park nearby.

.

.

After getting some ice cream, the two finally decided to settle on one of the benches outside, near a tree that seemed to provide the perfect shade from the sun.

"Right?" Alya laughed, "I can't leave Nino alone with Trixx for a second. I have _no_ idea what's going on in his head half the time!"

"Even after being married to him for so long?" Marinette teased in response, though the ever-familiar feeling of envy seemed to creep itself into her mind.

"Definitely, but I can't deny that I love that loser," she replied, laughing, before noticing the change in her friend's disposition. Realizing what it was about immediately, Alya offered an empathetic smile. "Hey, you know that you'll find someone, right?"

Marinette sighed, finishing the ice cream with a crunch. "It's not that I _want_ to, I mean, I'm definitely happy where I am, but when I hear about you and Nino…" she trailed off, then smiled, somewhat bittersweetly. "I just feel a little jealous, you know? I'd love to experience something like that."

"Well," Alya responded, hand pressed to her chin, mimicking a thinking gesture. "What about Nathanael? The artist I set you up on a date with? You never did tell me how that went."

"It went great!" Marinette responded, "he's a great guy!" She cracked a smile, remembering the date, but shook her head. "I just don't think we're meant to be together", recalling how excited the male would get when it came to talking about his partner-in-writing. "There's definitely someone he cares about already."

Alya pouted, then tilted her head again. "Well," she began slowly, the remnants of a plan beginning to form in her mind. "If you haven't found anyone yet…" a smirk. " _Then we can find someone here!_ "

Flushing, Marinette immediately shook her head. "No way!"

"Come on, isn't there anyone here that's your type?"

Alya looked around, scoping the park for any potential dates. Suddenly, she lit up, then jabbed her finger in the direction of the fountain. _"What about him?"_

Against her better judgment, Marinette looked toward the fountain. After all, Alya had been with her for years. She definitely knew what her type was already.

Or… _not_.

Eyes following the direction of where Alya had pointed, Marinette saw a rather old man; who, judging by his cane and facial features, had to be in his late fifties. He was peacefully leaning down, throwing birdseed to feed the pigeons that passed by. Catching her gaze, he smiled, only for the girl to smile awkwardly in return before breaking eye contact.

"Are you making fun of me?" Marinette hissed, turning away to see her friend's amused look.

" _Look again,_ Mari." She only responded, jerking her head to the other individual poised near the fountain.

Correction: there were, in fact, two of them.

One of them was a young boy Marinette estimated to be at most five years old, with an infectious smile and, from what it looked, a penchant for chaos. He was noisily running around the fountain, eyes sparkling with something that Marinette didn't realize she missed: childlike wonder.

But it wasn't the boy that caught her attention. In fact, she was much more preoccupied with the _much older_ , and, in her opinion, _much more eye-catching_ man who was carefully watching over the kid.

For the first time in a long time _(or the first time, even?)_ , Marinette felt her heart skip a beat.

Entranced, she watched as the stranger suddenly picked up the boy, throwing him up in the air to the latter's surprised glee. Marinette's eyes made their way to his arms, clearly well-built from what she assumed was years of manual labor. His outfit, despite being simple, also fitted and complemented his form perfectly; something that her inner fashionista appreciated, knowing more than a few men who had no idea how to dress well. It was, however, his face that drew her attention the most; blonde, with twinkling green eyes, and a stubbled grin that immediately turned her red, this seemed like the type of scene where Marinette was starting to believe in the notion of love at first sight.

 _Well_ , maybe it wasn't love (it was far too early for that): but there was definitely _something_ there.

"He's hot, right? Totally your type."

Shaken out of her fantasy, Marinette quickly moved her arms— which she had been leaning over, unexpectedly doubling over and falling off the bench. Clutching her head with her hand, Marinette's eyes narrowed as she looked up toward her friend, who was snickering in sudden entertainment.. " _Alya..._ "

But before she could continue her retort, a hand shot out to help her. "Oh, thank y—"

Suddenly, Marinette felt the need to double over again, as a pair of bright green eyes met hers.

"Are you okay?"

Alya finally broke into laughter, paying no mind to the curious glances and stares that were all pointed towards her. She was always a big personality, after all, and couldn't care less about what people thought (Marinette always felt that her best friend had no shame, being completely comfortable in her confidence: something that she had always envied. _Especially now_ , with the very-hot-and-very-real-stranger-suddenly-talking-to-her.).

"U-Uh, yeah…" Marinette managed to mumble, taking his hand. _It's warm_. "Thank you."

Marinette stood then smoothed over her outfit, only realizing in quiet mortification that she was dressed in the tank top and pajama pants she had been wearing for the past three days. Suddenly becoming hyper-aware of her appearance, she quickly let go of his hand, then bowed.

 _Bowed_.

"I- uh- falling for you- _I mean,_ thank you for falling- _no, wait!_ Thanks for- uh, helping me fall- _when_ I fell! On the ground, obviously. _Not for you_ , I mean, you're hot and all, but I- ah- _wait_!" Fumbling over her words, and steps, in extreme embarrassment, Marinette desperately grabbed at her wheezing friend's hands, then dashed away from the scene, her sudden loud voice piercing the park as she ran.

" _ **THANKS!"**_

.

.

Only when they end up a safe distance away from 'the scene of the crime' does Marinette finally let Alya go, who heaved a breath in apparent exhaustion. " _What was_ …" another deep breath " _… that for?!_ "

Marinette leaned over the building wall, catching her own breath. "Ohmy _god_ I can't believe I just saidthat," she managed to say, the redness in her face not quite from the sudden run (after all, she did pride herself in being a fit person), but more on the embarrassment of what had just taken place.

She felt like the 13-year-old Marinette, stumbling over what to say and what to do when it came to who she was attracted to. She was proud to say that she had gotten over that after a few years, but when it came to _him_ , now dubbed the Hot Park Stranger, it was like all those years meant nothing.

Marinette felt like her awkward teenage self all over again.

Alya went down to the sidewalk, clutching her chest in an attempt to get her breathing back to normal. "Come on, it wasn't _that_ bad," she said, then laughed. "You just told a random stranger you fell for him; I mean, going a _bit_ strong there, but you were never the subtle type anyways."

Sitting next to Alya, Marinette suddenly swatted her hand, pouting in response. "This is _your_ fault." She finally remarked, pointedly.

"What do you mean _my_ fault?!"

"If you hadn't pointed him out to me, I wouldn't have fallen over and—"

"Oh come on, you falling over was _not_ because of me. That was just you being your regular klutzy self and—"

"Klutzy? I haven't been that much of a klutz in years! It's—"

" _Please,_ who are you kidding? You cannot spell Marinette Dupain-Cheng without: K-L-U—"

" _ **Then do tell me, please, where the letter**_ **'K'** _ **IS IN MY**_ —"

The curious stares of Parisians passing them in the street made the two pause, realizing how loudly they were speaking. They stared at each other for a minute, then burst into sudden laughter.

"We look so dumb," Alya finally said, picking herself up, then offering Marinette a hand.

Marinette gratefully takes it, then smiles. "Yeah, we do."

They giggle again, then loop their arms together to begin walking back to Marinette's office. "You know," Alya started. "Look at the bright side."

" _What_ bright side?"

"Well, you'll probablynever see him again! So we can just tuck this away and pretend it never happened."

Marinette hummed thoughtfully, then smiled. "Guess you're right. Anyway, let's get going; you just made me leave a mountain of paperwork that should be finished by tomorrow morning."

"Oh, well, guess that's my cue to lea— _**ack**_!"

"There's _no way_ you're leaving me; now come on, we have an all-nighter to pull."

"Awh, _Mari!_ "

**.**

**.**

**.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just more plot set-up with this chapter, no adrinette date yet (unfortunately). i may love writing alyanette bonding a little too much. however, the next chapters will finally focus on the romance, so do look forward to it. (this chapter was also deleted from some reason ? im p sure i uploaded this before but o k a y)
> 
>  **inspired by this prompt:** "The hot single parent I'm into proposed a playdate for our kids and I happily agreed but I was actually talking about my pet please send help" AU.
> 
> _thank you for reading! ( ´ ∀ `)ノ～♡_


	3. pre, scene ii

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She was _Marinette Dupain-Cheng_ , and hell if she’d let a man stop her from enjoying her damn coffee.
> 
>  **my tellonym:** milkisande

**.**

**pre, scene ii**

_with the right amount of sugar,  
just how you like it._

**.**

**.**

**.**

**ONCE Paris Fashion Week finally ended, Marinette Dupain-Cheng took a long awaited break.**

She had informed her secretary that she'd be out for the day, going around to find inspiration and working on her brand's next collection, despite having only recently released one. It was a stressful job, but it was also in rare moments like this that Marinette enjoyed the most, feeling a little more human and a little less like a work-efficient (and frankly, work-dependent) robot.

After all, her passion really was in fashion design, not in management and papers and all the extra work that came with it.

Entering the cafe, Marinette took a deep breath, and smiled. The establishment was nowhere near in standard to the high-class and expensive places her business partners treated her to, but she personally loved the coziness and comfort offered by the place. It was much smaller and obscure, but that fact in itself treated her well: with the likelihood of meeting someone she knew being slim to none, leaving her to work in peace.

At least, that's how the cafe _had_ served her for the past few months.

But as she looked around to see if there were any free seats, Marinette paled in the realization that chances, slim as they were, were still _chances_ after all, and that sometimes, those chances could became realities… at times, even manifesting themselves in the form of familiar strangers _(who may or may not make her feel like a hormonal teenager all over again)_.

Immediately ducking her head down in a sorry attempt to hide herself— though arguably just gaining more attention— Marinette turned around cautiously, ensuring that her face was barely recognizable as she fished her shades out of her bag.

_Oh God, why was_ _**he** _ _here!? Of all people!?_

Marinette wasn't proud to admit that even after almost a month since their last (and first) encounter, she couldn't get the blonde, green-eyed stranger out of her mind. She wasn't proud to admit that most of her designs reflected that fact either, with the unique accents of black, green, and yellow in her works not typical of her signature red and black palette.

She _especially_ wasn't proud to admit, however, that she hadn't felt _that_ inspired for a collection in a _long_ time.

Stealing another curious glance towards the stranger, Marinette drank in his appearance: he was wearing a plain outfit, similar to before, but stunning all the same. She figured he could be a model if he so wanted, even admitting to herself that he was leagues above some of the people that the agency sent to wear her designs.

For a moment, Marinette's mind danced around the possibility of him modelling for her, wearing her clothes, _taking them off_ … before hastily shaking her head. _**Definitely**_ _no thoughts like that._

As if feeling that someone was staring at him, the stranger suddenly looked up, with Marinette not wasting a second before whipping her head back into place. She could swear that she heard a sudden chuckle from behind her, but decided against finding out, impatiently waiting for her order to be served.

"Miss… Ladybug?"

At the call of her nickname— often opting to use that instead of her real name (she liked the feeling of mystery and anonymity that came with it), Marinette snuck into the counter to take her drink, before absentmindedly realizing that she had forgotten to ask for takeout.

Though, in her defense, she _had_ meant to stay until her plans were oh-so-rudely thwarted by the Hot Park Stranger.

Marinette sighed, weighing the options in her head.

For one, she could just ask to have her coffee put into a to-go cup, leave, and work somewhere else to avoid the (one-sided) awkwardness of being in the same establishment.

On the other hand... she _could_ just suck it up and stay. She did need to get work done, and the cafe always did wonders to inspire her new designs.

The fact that hewas there, her unassuming muse, didn't quite hurt the flow of ideas either.

And, after all, did she really want to be the kind of person who was sosocially-awkward that she would run away from a random stranger because she found him too… too _what?_ Too hot?

She was the new-and-improved Marinette: not the clumsy girl of high school, but the independent woman CEO of the top brand in the fashion industry.

She was _Marinette Dupain-Cheng_ , and hell if she'd let a man stop her from enjoying her damn coffee.

Huffing, and set on her decision, Marinette, albeit a little awkwardly, made her way to the tables next to the window (she liked looking outside while working, sometimes sketching the outfits of the Parisians as they passed by).

With all her luck, the only free seat in that area was right next to his, but resolved that it wouldn't be an issue. After all, she rationalized, if she sat the other way, then it would be like he wasn't there at all. And looking back would be at him would be much less appealing, given how obvious it would be if she did.

Holding her mug of coffee, she walked over, slowly, cautiously, to avoid his gaze, then sat down.

_Success!_

She breathed out, relieved, then began to work, ignoring what she felt (but refused to acknowledge) was someone staring behind her.

.

.

A few hours into working, the cafe steadily filled up.

The weather had taken an unexpected turn for the stormy, and a variety of customers entered in an attempt to shield themselves from the rain. She wasn't really fond of the sudden company, but didn't really mind as long as nobody would bother her.

And nobody did— not on purpose, at least.

Unsurprisingly, the seats and tables were full, with most people standing in the corners in an attempt to fit inside. What grabbed her attention, however, was an elderly man who seemed drenched from the rain.

Wearing a Hawaiian shirt and looking exhausted, the man leaned over his cane, holding a mug of coffee with another hand. He seemed to be struggling, causing Marinette to worry.

Sighing and looking over her things— an assortment of stationery and papers spread about, she stuffed them in her bag, then stood up to approach the older stranger.

"Excuse me?" Marinette asked, as the old man looked up curiously. "I have to get back to my office, so would you like my seat instead? I won't need it anymore."

The man perked an eyebrow. "Are you sure?" He asked. "It's raining hard out there, it'd be better for you to wait it out rather than get sick."

Marinette smiled, then made the _thumbs up_ gesture, before immediately putting it down, embarrassed. "It's fine!" She exclaimed. "I've built quite the strong immune system from years of work."

Though grateful, the man shook his head. "Please, I can't do that to you—"

He continued, before getting cut off. "Don't worry, sir," a deep voice smoothly entered into the conversation. "She can sit with me."

Curious, and more accurately, surprised, Marinette turned to see a familiar face standing behind her— _**ALERT: Hot Park Stranger has entered your field of vision!**_

Spluttering, Marinette lost all sense of how to… _words_ , only shaking her head in embarrassment.

Seemingly entertained, the older man looked up. "And who might you be?"

The stranger grinned, somewhat slyly, reminding Marinette of a Cheshire Cat. "A familiar face?" He remarked, then turned to face her. "If you remember me?"

"I- ah, _yes?_ "

The elderly man looked at the two of them, and in a knowing glance, nodded his head. "Then I'll take you up on your offer, miss. Thank you very much."

He bowed his head down, before walking away and muttering something along the lines of, _"ah, young love."_ (She chose to ignore it.)

After all, Marinette _was_ frozen in place, almost unable to speak; only to feel a warm hand on her shoulder.

"Let's sit, then?"

.

.

 _Tingles._ Sitting with (an admittedly attractive) stranger made a thirty-year-old woman feel _tingles_.

_That was new._

She glanced from the top of her sketchbook to peek at him, calmly typing away at his laptop. After the offer that the two would sit together, they returned to his table, working in (somewhat) comfortable silence.

He didn't attempt to start a conversation— _not that she wanted him to_ (as she so told herself), but Marinette couldn't deny that she was a little less than enthused.

The fashionista had dressed up well that day, leagues above the pajama fiasco that was their first meeting. She had finally felt like herself, comfortably nestled into one of her original pieces, a fitted red trench coat that she liked to wear during the colder months.

She prided herself in being rather attractive too, though she was admittedly a little too shy to admit it out loud.

_So, then,_ _**why wasn't he talking to her** _ _?_

Grumbling softly, Marinette decided to focus on her work instead. Putting down her notebook and leaning over to get her bag, she struggled for a moment, before _somehow_ bumping into the stranger's coffee mug, spilling its contents

_All._

_Over._

_The._

_Table._

Horrified, Marinette quickly grabbed at her things, as the liquid dripped down the desk to the floor. To her surprise, the stranger's reflexes were pretty fast, too, having picked up his laptop and other belongings before they could be damaged.

Not to say, however, that she was any less mortified.

"I'm _so_ sorry!" She stated, head bent down in shame as one of the cafe employees came along to clean the mess. "I'll go ahead and buy you a new coffee, _ohmygodIcan'tbelieveIjustdidthat_ —".

Only to be interrupted with sudden laughter.

"Hey, it's okay, don't worry about it." he replied. "The coffee was a little too bitter for my taste, anyway."

She looked over at the spilled coffee. " _Sure_ , then that's why you bought black coffee?"

A shrug. "I needed to keep awake." Then, a thoughtful tap on the chin. "I prefer milk."

Marinette, to her credit, laughed. "Just plain milk?"

"Yeah."

"Hmm, like a cat, then?"

"How'd you know?" He responded, grinning. "My favorite animal."

"Suits you."

The words come out of her mouth before knowing it, and she's horrified. " _I mean, uh—"_

"Oh, come on, we were doing so well!" He teased, resulting in the woman's rapidly reddening face.

"Hah _… sorry."_

"Don't be," he chided, eyes crinkling with entertainment. "It's cute."

_Cute. He called her cute._

"And," he continued. "After all, it _did_ make a lasting expression the first time we met."

Mortified really seemed to be the word of the day.

"And I am _so sorry_ about that," Marinette mumbled quickly, stumbling over her words all over again. "Maybe I just got some head trauma when I fell—"

"— for me?" The stranger cuts her off, teasing.

She was the color of a tomato now.

"Oh _God,_ you remember all that?"

"Been thinking about it for weeks."

Marinette finally looked up, surprised. "You mean…"

"Yeah, I've actually been thinking about you for awhile."

 _Me too._ She thought. "That— I didn't expect that."

"Really?" He mused. "I don't think anyone could forget someone like you."

To her credit, Marinette somehow managed not to explode into flames. "Well, _thanks._ I couldn't really forget you either."

"You have no idea how happy I am to hear that."

Marinette smiled, butterflies seeming to cause a storm in her stomach. "And I'm happy you remembered me."

They paused, and laughed together. Marinette found that it was comfortable to talk to him; even with all her awkwardness, he easily navigated his way through it.

It's the sudden ring of her phone that paused their conversation.

Noticing it was her secretary, Marinette apologized. "Sorry, I need to pick this up. Do you mind?"

He shook his head, and nudged his head in a gesture of approval. "Go for it."

She picked up the phone, turning away from the stranger.

"Yes, is there anything wrong?"

"Someone wants to say hello," a voice greeted, clearly not the familiar voice of her secretary.

"Nino," Marinette realized, surprised. "What are you doing at my office?"

"Just waiting for Alya to finish up work," he responded easily. "I didn't know you were taking a break today."

"Yeah, it was a little spontaneous, but I needed to work on some new designs." She glanced at her companion, comfortably taking a sip of his coffee as he swiped through his phone. "Which I should really get back to, for that matter—"

" _Meow!"_ The sudden loud purr shocked the two on the phone.

"Is that… Tikki?"

Nino laughed. "Yeah, she looked a little bored with your secretary, so I took her out. I hope that's okay?"

"Definitely!" Marinette smiled. "Thanks Nino, I had her teeth checked earlier, so she was probably a little grumpy." Another annoyed meow. "Can you put her on the phone?"

"Sure," he replied, and with a little shuffling, managed to hear a clearly irritated cat through the phone line.

Baby voice, activated. _"Hello Tikki~ do you miss me?"_ She teased. _"How was the dentist?"_ An annoyed purr. Marinette giggled. _"That bad, huh?"_ She nodded along through the call. _"Don't worry, I'll leave soon and buy some of your favorite treats, okay?"_ Laughter. _"Only the best for my baby."_

After all, it was confirmed: Marinette Dupain-Cheng _was_ an unapologetic cat mom, and especially enjoyed spoiling Tikki, a unique cat breed with an even more uniquely red coat. It was love at first sight in the pet shop, and she loved the animal as much as she would've loved her own daughter:

The cause of her tendency to basically treat her pet like an actual human.

Which, consequently, led to more than a few misunderstandings.

After hanging up the phone, Hot Park Stranger was the first to break the silence. "She sounds cute."

"Yeah!" Marinette smiled, brightly. "Tikki's my baby, I love her _so much_."

"How old?"

"Just turned a year old a month ago! She's still pretty young, so I can't leave her alone that often."

"Ah, I definitely get that," he laughed. "Plagg demands _so much_ attention; he's a few years older, but still an absolute handful to take care of."

"Oh, you too?" Marinette's eyes sparkled in finding a fellow cat mom (dad?). "Tikki's always complaining, you know; I'm starting to feel bad. I'm always busy with work, so she usually ends up having to stay in the care of my secretary. I just _know_ she hates it there."

"She's not really the social type?"

"Well, not really. I just don't know anyone she could play with," Marinette sighed, rather resignedly. "I've tried setting up playdates, but they never really work out."

"How about with Plagg?" The man paused, as if in thought. "Though he's really hyperactive; if you think Tikki would be okay with that."

Marinette brightened up, excited. "Sure, that'd be great! It'd be great if she could get out more! Plagg, was it?"

The stranger laughed, then nodded. "Then let's set it up! But yeah, I'm pretty sure you saw him already."

"Huh? When?" Marinette paused, as if to look around. "I don't think they let them in here."

A curious look. "What do you mean? I've brought Plagg here before. He just isn't here today because he has school."

"Really? They never let me bring Tikki in here— _wait._ Did you say _**school**_?"

"Yeah," he nodded to himself. "I guess Tikki doesn't have school yet, huh? She's too young, after all."

"Wait." Marinette stopped in her tracks, attempting to wrap her mind around the information newly presented to her. " _School? And I've seen him?"_ The gears turned. "Do you mean the kid who was with you that day at the park!?"

Her companion looked equally puzzled. "Yeah, of course. Plagg's my son."

A sudden realization, and all the pieces falling into place. "Your _son_?"

"Yeah," for the first time, he looked a little sheepish. "My son, Plagg. Four years old."

"Oh." The conversation paused, and they were at a standstill.

She was short-circuiting.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng was a _cat_ mom. She was talking about her _cat_ , Tikki, who just celebrated her first birthday.

She had assumed the man sitting across her was the same. But _no._ He was _not_ talking about a cat.

He was talking about his literal _son_. As in, walks-on-his-two-legs, says-goo-goo-gah-gah, very- _human_ , and very- _not_ -a-cat, four-year-old son.

She didn't even have time to think about the uniqueness of her son's name. Not even the embarrassment of the misunderstanding she created.

In fact, her mind wandered somewhere else completely. _He's a dad_ , Marinette thought to herself. _And if there's a dad, there's most definitely a_ _ **mom**_ (or another dad, she wasn't one to judge). So that meant… what?

That meant that, _oh God_ , she was very likely flirting with a _taken, married,_ man.

Sure, she'd had her fair share of terrible dates before, from narcissistic queen bees to compulsive liars, but being an unwitting homewrecker, even if the man in question _was_ a whole other level of attractive, was definitely one thing she didn't want to add to it.

"Sorry," the stranger finally spoke, scratching his head. "I guess he's a little too old, huh?"

 _Thatwasn'ttheproblemwhattheproblemisthatyou'reflirtingdespitehavingawifeorhusbandorwhatever_ —

She gulped it down. "Yeah," she laughed. "Sorry."

"It's fine, I'm—"

"Wait," Marinette responded, stopping him from continuing his words. "No. That's not the problem. Honestly, I don't really _understand_ why you'd think this was okay, like, can you imagine how she'd feel if she found out—"

"Huh: _who?_ "

"Oh, sorry, _he_ , then?" She clarified, "well, either way, that doesn't make it okay, I mean, cheating is _never_ okay, I'm sure you can talk through your issues and well, dragging me into this is kinda mean, don't you think?"

"Wait."

"I mean, sure I thought you were really cute but I know better than to be dragged into whatever soap opera madness you want to live and—"

" _Wait."_

"— I am definitely not 'the other woman' potential, I can't place myself in that kind of role —"

" _ **Wait."**_

"— all that hair-pulling and _he's mine!_ arguments definitely aren't my style —"

" **Ladybug."**

A pause. "What did you just call me?"

"Well," the stranger sighed, "I don't know your name, and I overheard you answer to that when the barista called you to get your order."

"Oh." Another pause. "It's Marinette."

Then, the beginning to another rant. "But you shouldn't know that because you're a piece of garbage—"

"I think… that there's been a misunderstanding here." The man stated, the ghost of a smile twitching on his lips.

" _Why are you smiling this is a serious issue I am not about to date someone who's already with someone else even if you_ _ **are**_ _my type_ —"

"Marinette," he repeated.

_Tingles._

"There is no wife."

A curious glance.

"Husband, then?"

Laughter. "Nope."

A confused pause, as if to put the pieces together. "Then…"

"There's no mom in the picture, don't worry."

A cautious raised eyebrow. _"Really?"_

The stranger nods. "Yep," he responded, easily. Calmly. "Has been for a long time."

Marinette felt like she shouldn't pry any further.

"Oh, well, then." A beat. "That's nice."

_That's nice?_

She had just accused him of cheating on his apparently non-existent wife, and all she could respond with was: _**that's nice?**_

He laughed, seemingly unfazed. "Yeah, I guess it is."

An awkward pause encompassed their table.

"So…" she began. "I'm sorry for…" she moved her hands in a circular motion, "all _... that_."

He looked amused. "No, it's okay; I would've been confused too." Another grin. "But, what about you, then?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, with Tikki," he replied. "The dad out of the picture?"

"Oh!" _Oh yeah, she had somehow managed to think that they were talking about their pets when apparently, they were talking about literal children._

She laughed; loudly, awkwardly, with more than a few people staring curiously at their table. "Yep, yep! There is no dad; I mean, he's been gone for a long time."

The stranger's eyes looked sympathetic. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, definitely! I didn't care about him anyway, it was like he didn't exist! Or, I mean, he definitely _did_ exist, but it's just like—"

She was interrupted by laughter. "Yeah, I get it. You don't need to force yourself to explain." He smiled, then pursed his lips as if in thought. "So, anyway, somewhere in all that chaos, I'm pretty sure I heard you say something about dating me?"

Blush. "Oh… Well, _technically_ , I said I _wouldn't_ date you."

"Since I was a cheating piece of garbage." He clarified.

Embarrassment. "Well, I don't think I said that _exactly_ …"

" _Sure_ ," he laughed. "But since I'm not that trash bag you thought I was… is the offer still on the table?"

"... Are you asking me out?" Disbelief.

"Isn't that obvious?"

"Yeah— I mean, _well_ …" She spluttered. "I don't even know your name!"

"Adrien," he replied.

He raised his hand and offered it to her. "My name's Adrien."

She took his hand, and shook it.

_Warm, it's so warm._

"Adrien," she echoed. "Suits you."

He chuckled. "Thanks. Your name suits you too." A wink. "It's cute."

She felt like melting into a puddle. He had called her cute twice now.

"So, are you free Saturday?"

Against all odds, she managed to nod.

"Great." He smiled. "We can have our playdate then, too."

And just like that, she's slapped back into reality. _Oh God,_ the playdate.

How the hell was she going to pull _that_ off?

"I have to go," Marinette finally stated, haphazardly stuffing her items into her bag, before quickly amending herself. "Have to take Tikki to the ve— _I mean_ , doctor." Ripping out one of her rejected sketches, she scribbled her number, then pushed it towards him.

"My number," she shared. "If you want to text me. About the details for the playdate, _of course!_ "

Before giving him the chance to reply, she stood abruptly, stumbled, then basically ran out the door (something that seemed to be the common theme in all their meetings so far).

.

.

Once Marinette returned to her office, she sighed, breathless.

She found that he left her in that state pretty often.

Flopping tiredly onto the floor, a sudden meow greeted her as she entered. Marinette smiled, sitting up to put the figure on her lap. "What are we going to do about this mess, huh, Tikki?" She asked, tiredly petting her cat. "Is there any way you can transform into a human, just for a _little_ bit?"

The indignant meow Tikki responded with said it all.

"Yeah," Marinette laughed. "I figured."

Instead of responding, Tikki stretched, raising her head, only to reveal a note carefully tucked into her collar.

"What's this, hm?" Marinette asked, curiously, before opening it.

_**sorry we couldn't say wait up; had to pick up trixx at the nursery. newborns are a handful. :")** _

_**but thanks for letting me play around with tikki! maybe we could trade sometimes? lol. - Nino** _

"Trade, huh?" Marinette mused. "Wonder what Alya would say about that."

Then, a sudden realization.

_Trixx was a newborn. An actual baby._

_She knew someone who needed a baby._

_Something could probably be arranged._

She grinned, hugged Tikki, then grabbed her phone. _She was a genius, this was a genius_ _idea, and absolutely nothing will go wrong._

One text later, and the plan was put into motion. Something that would, in all honesty, most likely end in disaster.

.

.

**TO: ALYA  
FROM: MARINETTE**

_hey, want to get lunch together tomorrow?  
_

_i'll pay :D_

**.**

**.**

**.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter went… much longer than originally planned (two times as long as the previous chapters, actually). trying to make up for the late uploads ack:< final/up next is the Playdate™ wheeee :^)
> 
>  **inspired by this prompt:** "The hot single parent I'm into proposed a playdate for our kids and I happily agreed but I was actually talking about my pet please send help" AU.
> 
> _thank you for reading! ( ´ ∀ `)ノ～♡_


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